Birds chirped,
Intrigued by first ray from the east.
Awoke a man,
Intrigued by thought of his bread.
Left warmth those who questioned survival,
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I laid there, as a breathing corpse,
Survival never a problem,
Bliss swept below sewage,
Nothing-
Neither welcomes songs of birds
Nor the farewell songs of moon,
Nothing intrigued me.
Laziness, mom calls it,
Bewildered my reasoning,
I lay there until I hear,
"You're getting late"
Late for what? I ask everyday.
